THE RAIN BIRD SHAKES HIS WINGS.
True to her promise, Sahwah began the very next morning
"cultivating" Gladys. "Have you any middies you want washed?" she
asked, as she dumped her own into the kettle over the fire.
"Every one I own is soiled," replied Gladys.
"Bring them along, then," said Sahwah, "and we'll do them
together." Gladys brought her middies and Sahwah popped them
into the boiling soapsuds, stirring them around with a stick.
When they had boiled a few minutes she fished them out into a
pail and carried them down to the lake for rinsing, Gladys walked
along, but she did not offer to help carry the pail. Sahwah
rinsed the soapy pieces in the clear water and was spreading them
out on the rocks in the sun when she noticed that the _Bluebird_,
which had been making its morning stop at Wharton's Landing, was
headed their way instead of passing out through the gap. "Who
can be coming to see us?" she said to Gladys. "The boat wouldn't
stop unless it had a passenger, for our supplies came yesterday."
It was not a passenger, however, that was left on the Winnebago
dock, but a wooden box from the express company. The girls
crowded around to get a look at it. It was addressed to the
"Winnebago Camp Fire Girls, Camp Winnebago, Loon Lake, Maine."
Sahwah ran and got a hammer and soon had the box open.
"What is it?" cried the girls.
"It's a sail!" exclaimed Sahwah, looking at it closely, "the kind
you put on canoes."
Attached to the lid of the box was a card which read:
"To the Winnebagos, to save them the trouble of harnessing
themselves to their canoe to make it go. In remembrance of a
delightful day spent in their camp.
"EMERSON BENTLEY,
FRANK D. WHEELER."
"O joy!" exclaimed Sahwah, clapping her hands. "Maybe we won't
have some fun now! Just wait until I get it adjusted." She
spent most of the day hoisting that sail on one of the canoes,
but finally had it finished, and went darting around on the lake
like a white-winged bird, taking the other girls out with her in
turn. "It's too bad you can't go out in a canoe," she said to
Gladys with real regret, "I should love to have you go sailing
with me." There was no help for it, however, and Gladys had to
stay on shore.
"Won't you let me help you?" she asked Gladys at the next
swimming period. "I'll hold you up if you'll try to float." But
Gladys would not let any one touch her in the water except Nyoda.
When Nyoda was directing the other girls Gladys stood out on the
beach. "How am I going to help Gladys learn to swim if she won't
let me?" thought Sahwah in despair.
"Don't go too far out on the lake," Nyoda warned Sahwah that
afternoon, her eye on a bank of clouds that was rolling up in
the west.
"I know there's a storm coming, and I'll be careful," promised
Sahwah, mindful of her new resolution to think before she acted,
"but the wind is so strong now it's great fun to be out sailing.
I'll stay near shore."
The storm that had been threatening broke loose about supper
time, and the girls ran to fasten down their tents. "Whew!" said
Sahwah, struggling with a tent flap, "listen to the wind." The
great pines were roaring deafeningly, and the lake, lashed into
fury, was dashing high against the cliff. "Where are you going?"
said Nyoda imperatively, as Hinpoha started down the path to the
lake in her bathing suit. "To bring in the flag," answered
Hinpoha. "It'll be torn to pieces in that gale." It was all she
could do to stand upright on the dock. The rain was coming down
in slanting sheets that closed round her like a fog. She untied
the ropes that held the flag and tried to lower it. But it would
not come. Something was wrong with the pulley. The flag was
flapping in the wind and straining at the ropes like a spirited
horse.
"No help for it," said Hinpoha to herself, "I'll have to go up on
top." The tower swayed in the wind as she mounted the ladder,
and the rain dashed in her face, blinding her. Great crashes of
thunder sounded in her ears, and the lightning flashed all around
her. Up on top it was worse yet. The wind whipped her long hair
out and threatened to hurl her from the little platform, so she
did not dare let go of the railing with one hand while she
released the pulley with the other. "Glory," she whispered as she
cautiously descended the ladder, "but the Thunder Bird has it in
for us!"
She sped up the path with the precious flag held against her
bosom, and found the girls gathered in the shack. Nyoda was
kindling a fire in the big open fireplace, and the girls were
seated in a circle before it. Then Nyoda, raising her voice
above the patter of the raindrops on the roof, read aloud while
the girls did Craft work by the light of lanterns. The evening
wore away pleasantly, but the rain continued. At bed time they
wrapped their ponchos around them and ran for the tents. The
hollows between the rocks were veritable rivers, and in the inky
darkness more than one girl stepped squarely into the flood.
"I'm soaked to the skin," panted Sahwah, running into the tent
and quickly closing the flap behind her, "and I stepped into a
puddle up to my knees."
"So am I," said Hinpoha, who was divesting herself of her clothes
in the middle of the tent. "Did you ever see such a downpour?"
"Cheer up," said Migwan, who had gone to bed early in the evening
with a headache and stayed in during the storm, "the tent doesn't
leak, anyway. We'll be perfectly dry in here."
"It'll be all right if the tent doesn't blow over," said Sahwah.
"Whew! Listen to that!" The girls held their breath as a
particularly fierce blast hurled itself against the canvas sides
of their shelter. Gladys, terror-stricken, sat on the bed and
trembled. Sahwah hastened to reassure her. "It probably won't
blow down," she said cheerfully; "these tents are made pretty
strong, and the ropes on this one are all new, but there is
always the possibility. Do you mind if I take your laundry bag
down? It is pinned to the side of the tent and will lead the
water through."
The girls slept very little that night, although the tent
withstood the storm and remained standing. The rain still fell
with unabated vigor at dawn. At about six o'clock Nyoda put her
head into the tent and called Sahwah. Sahwah was alert instantly.
Nyoda had on her bathing suit and cap. "What is it?" asked
Sahwah.
"One of the canoes has broken away, and is floating off," Nyoda
said in a low tone, so as not to disturb Gladys and Migwan, who
were still sleeping. Hinpoha sat up and listened. "I am going
after it in the launch," continued Nyoda, "and will need help.
Put on your bathing suit and come."
"Let me come, too," begged Hinpoha.
"All right," said Nyoda, and the three crept out of the tent and
down the path to the lake. The water had risen at least a foot,
and the floor of the dock was flooded. About half a mile out in
the lake they saw the runaway canoe, now standing on end, now
floating bottom up.
"Wouldn't it float in by itself?" asked Sahwah.
Nyoda shook her head.
"It might float in all right," she said, "but it would be dashed
to pieces on the rocks on the other side. You notice it is being
carried farther away from us all the time. If we want that canoe
for the rest of the summer we'll have to go after it."
That was the most exciting launch ride the two girls had ever
taken. The little boat rode up and down on the waves like an egg
shell, the water going over her constantly, drenching the girls
and threatening to swamp the engine. The wind whirled the rain
against their faces. Nyoda stood up in the bow handling the
wheel as calmly as if she were pouring tea at a reception.
Nyoda's strong point was her composure; it was next thing to
impossible to get her excited. They caught up with the canoe and
Sahwah and Hinpoha managed to right it and fasten it to the
launch with a rope. They got back to the dock without mishap and
pulled the canoe high up where it could not be washed away a
second time. Sahwah and Hinpoha returned to the tent red as
roses from their exposure to the wind and rain and recounted
their early morning adventure to Migwan and Gladys.
At breakfast time they had to put on their ponchos again and pick
their way through the puddles to the shack, where they ate their
breakfast. The "Mess Tent" was leaking merrily in a dozen
places. By noon there was still no let up in the downpour. Rest
hour was spent on the floor in the shack. When Nyoda came in in
the middle of the afternoon from a tour of inspection she
announced that both the Alpha and Omega tents were leaking badly
and the bedding was getting wet. She made the girls bring their
blankets, rolled up in their ponchos, into the shack and spread
them out before the fire.
The shack was pretty well crowded before the afternoon was over.
Besides all the girls and the bedding and the partially painted
paddles that stood around everywhere, Nyoda brought in a large
supply of fire wood. It was all damp and had to be dried out
before it would burn. The rain whirled against the windows, as
if seeking entrance by force, but the girls inside, safe and dry,
made merry before the fire. Nyoda taught them a new game, called
"Johnny, Where Are You?" She blindfolded Hinpoha and Sahwah and
set them on the floor. Then each one in turn had to call,
"Johnny, where are you?" and upon the other one's answering,
"Here!" whacked in the direction of the voice with a rolled-up
newspaper. Both had to keep one hand on a pie-tin on the floor
between them. Sahwah and Hinpoha both gave and received some
sounding whacks, and kept the watchers in a roar of laughter with
their efforts to dodge each other. Towards the end Nyoda slipped
up and removed the bandage from Hinpoha's eyes and let her whack
Sahwah with her eyes open, and poor Sahwah wondered why she could
not dodge the attacks any better.
After supper Nyoda proposed playing "Aeroplane." She shooed all
the girls but Hinpoha out into the kitchen. One by one they were
blindfolded and led in. Sahwah was the first. She was led into
the center of the room and there brought to a halt. "Step up,"
commanded some one. Sahwah did as she was told and her feet were
planted on something that felt like a platform. "Now hang on!"
they ordered. She hung. It seemed to be hair she was hanging on
to. "Up with her!" Sahwah felt herself rising, up, up. The
hair sank out of her grasp. The board wobbled under her feet.
Straight up toward the ceiling she went, past the rafters and on
up, until her head struck the roof. The board wobbled much
worse. "Jump!" they shouted. Sahwah gathered her forces for a
mighty leap, determining to strike the floor with knees bent so
as to break the shock. She struck solid ground before she had
fairly started. The bandage was taken from her eyes. She was
standing on the floor in front of the fireplace. Beside her was
the "Aeroplane." It was a plain wooden board. When she had
stood on it they had lifted it up, and Hinpoha, whose head she
had seized upon to support herself, had gradually stooped down,
to enhance Sahwah's sensation of going up. To complete illusion
they hit her on the head with a book to make her think she had
struck the ceiling. She had risen about six inches from the
floor in all, although she was sure she had gone up six feet at
least. Her mighty leap caused the "conductors" much merriment.
Gladys did still better. She fell off without jumping.
When bedtime came there was no thinking of going to the tents, so
the beds were made up on the floor in a circle about the
fireplace. "Does this count toward our honor for sleeping five
nights on the ground?" asked Sahwah. "It ought to," said
Hinpoha, "it's harder than the ground."
Morning found the rain still unabated. "This is getting
monotonous," said Migwan, looking out at the grey skies and the
lake shrouded in mist.
"Can't we take our dip even if it is raining?" asked Sahwah
anxiously.
"I don't see why not," said Nyoda. But when they were in their
bathing suits and ready to start they found they could not open
the porch door of the shack. "What's the matter?" said Nyoda,
lowering one of the windows and looking out. "Oh, look at the
porch floor!" she cried. The flooring had warped up into a great
hump before the door, preventing its being opened.
"It looks like a roller coaster," said Migwan. The girls were
obliged to make their exit and re-entrance through the window.
"Hurray! No tent inspection to-day!" cried Hinpoha, picking up
her blankets from the floor to make room for Craft work.
"It'll take more than inspection to fix your tent up again," said
Nyoda, looking out of the side window of the shack.
"Why?" said Hinpoha.
"Come here and look," said Nyoda.
"Why, it's fallen down!" cried Hinpoha, looking over Nyoda's
shoulder. The girls pressed to the window to see the heap of
canvas that had been the Omega tent.
"Is Alpha still standing?" asked the inhabitants of that tent,
craning their necks.
"Yes," answered Nyoda, "which proves its superiority once for
all." The Alphas swelled out their chests and made triumphant
grimaces at the Omegas.
"I don't care," declared Sahwah, "I'd rather be an Omega any day
than an Alpha. We have a better view of the lake."
"But we keep our tent neater," said Chapa, "and so it looks
better."
"Like fun you keep yours neater," returned Sahwah.
"We get higher marks than you right along," said Chapa, "and that
goes to show."
"Well," flashed Sahwah, "we'd get higher marks if it wasn't
for--." Just in time she remembered her promise and broke off
abruptly.
"If it wasn't for what?" asked Chapa.
"For the wind blowing our things around so," she finished lamely,
and fell to carving her wood block furiously.
"Let's sing something," said Nyoda hastily.
"Migwan and Hinpoha, sing 'The Owl and the Pussy Cat,'" cried the
girls in chorus. Thus urged, the two mounted the piano bench and
acted out the romantic tale as they sang the words.
"Now let's all sing something," said Nyoda, when the amorous owl
and the impassioned pussy had danced themselves off the bench.
"What were some of those songs we sang on the hike?"
"Let's sing Migwan's latest song, 'O We Are Winnebagos,'" said
Hinpoha.
"That has a good swing to it," said Nyoda when they had sung it
several times. "Sahwah, dear, follow the tune more closely with
your tenor, you put us out."
"Well, I'm _willing_ to sing, anyhow," said Sahwah, "even if I
can't and that's more than some people do." This last was a
direct reference to Gladys. Although she was supposed to have a
very good and well-trained voice and had done much solo singing
in her time, Gladys steadfastly refused to sing along with the
other girls in chorus. Once or twice, after much coaxing on
Nyoda's part, she had consented to sing a "solo" on Sunday
morning or on "stunt night," but sing mornings in the shack with
the others she would not. They laid it to the fact that she
considered herself better than themselves and did not want to mix
in their doings, and it put a damper on their own, singing
because they thought she was criticising them. This was not
exactly the case. Once an enthusiastic teacher of hers had
pronounced her voice "different" from others and told her that
chorus singing would spoil it, so from then on she refused to
blend her voice with others. She knew well enough that this was
ridiculous, but it pleased her vanity and she kept it up. She
would not come right out and tell why, however, but simply said
she "didn't feel like singing." Naturally the girls thought her
reason a personal one and it made bad feeling all around. Her
refusal to sing puzzled and grieved Nyoda more than anything else
she did. The Winnebagos were known as a "singing group," and the
addition of a trained voice was very welcome. Nyoda thought of
course that Gladys would lead the singing in great shape and her
disappointment at her attitude was very keen.
"Yes, Sahwah," said Nyoda warmly, "your willingness to use the
talents you have is one of the reasons why we love you so."
"I think that any one who can sing and won't isn't--isn't a
sport," said Hinpoha emphatically.
"Maybe I have a reason for not singing," said Gladys in a lofty
manner.
"Well, what is it?" said Sahwah, exasperated into sharp speech.
Gladys pursed up her lips but did not reply.
Nyoda saw that a storm was brewing. It was the inevitable result
of the girls having been pent up so close together for over two
days. She pulled out her watch. "It's time for folk dancing,"
she announced briskly. The girls looked out of the window. The
rain was still teeming down. "Who's game to put on her bathing
suit and dance in the rain?" asked Nyoda.
"I, I," cried all the girls. They followed her to the tennis
court, where they did such dances as they could without music and
ended up with a lively game of "Three Deep," the water running
down over their faces. "Let's play 'Stump the Leader,"' said
Nyoda, when they had grown tired of "Three Deep."; "Follow me."
She led them a wild chase all over the camp, over rocks and
stumps, around trees and through puddles, then down on the dock.
She dove into the lake, swam around the dock, climbed out on the
rocks, out on the dock again and climbed the tower, from which
she jumped, the girls keeping close behind her, all except
Gladys. By the time swimming hour was over the girls had let off
enough steam to dwell together again in peace and amity.
Late that afternoon the rain ceased and the sun peeped out, pale
and wan from his long imprisonment. At the first beam that shone
through the girls were out of the shack with a whoop and began
putting up the Omega tent. "Let Hinpoha and me do it alone!"
shrieked Sahwah, pushing the others away, "if only two do it we
get an honor, if more help we don't!"
"Right-O," said Nyoda, stepping back, "do your worst, you two."
The tent was re-erected, and the girls scrambled around looking
for their scattered possessions.
"And the looking glass didn't even break!" said Migwan, picking
it up from one of the beds where it had landed when the tent went
down.
The next morning the sun shone in splendor and the sky was deep
blue and cloudless, while a high wind did its best to dry up the
ground. "Isn't it fine to be dry again?" said Migwan, looking
approvingly at her canvas shoes. "For the last three days I've
felt like a water-soaked sponge."
"Goodness, but the lake is rough," said Nyoda, watching Sahwah
out in a canoe, which was nearly standing on end. Her hair stood
out straight behind her in the wind and she reminded Nyoda of the
picture of the girl going over the falls in the "Legend of
Niagara." "There! I knew she would tip! For goodness sake, what
is she doing now?" For Sahwah had climbed on top of the
overturned canoe and was trying to paddle it in wrong side up.
She kept her eyes on Sahwah, watching her rather slow progress
through the waves, and did not see a party of people who were
coming up the path from the road until they were right beside
her. Her attention was attracted by a cry from Migwan. She
turned and saw a man and woman with a little boy about three
years old.
"Why, that's _my_ little boy!" said Migwan. "The one I saw in
the woods that morning."
"Then you are the young lady we are looking for," said the man,
coming forward. "We have you to thank that we have our boy with
us to-day. It was you who put us on the track of the men who had
kidnapped him."
"He _was_ kidnapped, then," said Migwan.
"Yes," answered the boy's father, "he was taken from our camp by
those two men whom you saw. Thanks to your picture of them we
put the police on their trail and caught them in Portland. We
are just coming home with him now and wanted to see you. This is
Mrs. Bartlett, my wife, and our son Raymond, whom you have
already seen."
"Come right up and sit down," said Nyoda cordially, "and tell us
all about it. We have been curious to know whether the little
boy was ever found or not."
They told how the little boy was missed from their camp that
Thursday night, and of their frantic search along the shore,
thinking he had fallen into the lake. Then some one found a toy
sailboat of his in the woods and they came to the conclusion that
he had either wandered off or been carried away. No trace of any
abductor could be found, however, and it would have been hard
work running the men down if it had not been for Migwan's picture
of them with the boy and her report that they were headed for the
Loon Lake boat. When found, little Raymond was dressed in girl's
clothes and effectually disguised. Then Migwan told the story of
her fall down the cliff and her night in the woods and her seeing
the three on the path in the morning. It was just like a fairy
tale.
"By the way," said Mr. Bartlett when she had finished, "did you
know that I had offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars
to any one giving information which would lead to Raymond's
recovery?"
"No," said Migwan, "I didn't."
"Well," said Mr. Bartlett, "that's what I did, and I don't see
that any one is entitled to it but yourself. You gave us the
only definite clue we had to work on. It gives me great
pleasure, madam, to pay my just debts," and he handed Migwan a
check.
Migwan stared at the slip of paper in a dazed fashion. She could
not comprehend the good fortune that had suddenly come to her.
Then she handed the check back to Mr. Bartlett. "I can't take
your money," she said. "I really didn't do anything, you know."
"That's all right," said Mr. Bartlett, waving her back. "You did
a whole lot more than you know, young lady. Just think of the
worry and anxiety you have saved us! It's worth the money, every
cent of it. I only wish I could offer a larger reward."
So Migwan, still protesting, was forced to accept the check, and
the Bartletts rose to go. "Come over and see us sometime," said
Mrs. Bartlett cordially, "and bring all the girls along. You
might have a sleeping party on our lawn."
"That will be fine, and I accept the invitation in behalf of my
girls," said Nyoda, as she accompanied them to the road where
their car stood.
Up on the shack porch Migwan was the center of an excited group,
and the check was passed from hand to hand. Sahwah sighed
enviously and wished with all her heart that she might be the
heroine of the hour.
"What are you going to do with all that money?" asked one of the
girls.
"It looks," said Migwan in an awed tone, hugging the precious
check in her hands, "as if I were really going to college, after
all!"